


Dreams

by kashmir



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-18
Updated: 2006-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:56:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashmir/pseuds/kashmir





	Dreams

Joaquin snuck outside through a back door to grab a few minutes of fresh air and a much needed smoke. His head was still spinning and add to that the alcohol he'd been freely indulging in and he was more than a little out of it. He made some lame excuse to the nameless reporter (they all looked alike by this point) and headed for the neon red exit sign like it was the promised land. Once outside, he dug his ever present pack of Marlboro's out of his jacket pocket and went to dig his Zippo out of his pants pocket when suddenly, a light flared to life inches from his face.

He looked to his right, noticing Jonathan for the first time. He half-smiled at the Irishman and leaned forward, letting the end of his cigarette meet the flame. Watched the paper burn away, the tobacco glow red. Nodded his head and mumbled his thanks when Jonathan clicked the lighter shut and saluted him with his own lit cigarette, a slight smirk gracing his shining lips.

They stood with their backs to the wall, smoking for long minutes in silence. Joaquin let the cold brick at his back ground him, tried to put the last few hours into perspective. He'd honestly never expected to win. Hoped, maybe but still. This perspective thing wasn't working. Still felt a little surreal, like someone else had walked up on that stage and gotten the award from John Travolta. That bullshit about feeling honored just being nominated? Wasn't bullshit for Joaquin. Just being nominated for a project he'd felt so strongly about and poured so much of himself into had been enough.

Jonathan coughed, straightened and flicked his cigarette to the ground, ash sprinkling down the front of his expensive trousers at his movement. Asked Joaquin if he felt like he was dreaming or if it was just him. Joaquin laughed throatily and said no. Told him he half expected to go back inside and find himself without his pants or something and then wake up right after. Seemed too good to be true. Jonathan chuckled and agreed in a murmur. Leaned back against the wall, closer to Joaquin so that their elbows were brushing. Pulled out his pack of cigarettes and shook one loose, brought it to his lips, didn't light it immediately. Put the pack away and was still for a moment.

Then turned to Joaquin and slowly withdrew the cigarette from his mouth. Looked him in the eyes as Joaquin finished his smoke. Asked him if he would mind if he kissed him.

After all, he whispered in his brogue, if it was a dream, it didn't matter, didn't count.

Joaquin ground the cigarette out with the heel of his shoe and cupped the nape of Jonathan's neck, pulling him close so that his tobacco and nicotine laced breath tickled his lips.

After all, Joaquin thought as he crushed their lips together, if it was a dream, it didn't matter, didn't count.


End file.
